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Chrissy Teigen Is the Unofficial Voice of Generation Fed Up


Chrissy Teigen has lost her voice. “I’m so sorry,” she rasps as we sit in a tiny Korean restaurant in New York City. Since giving birth to Miles, her second child with husband John Legend, in May, the 33-year-old model turned TV host turned everyone’s favorite social media spirit animal has been readjusting to her jet-setting schedule. “Everything is totally hitting me, and I’m very overwhelmed, and it’s like my body can’t take it,” she says, picking up the menu. Fortunately there’s a temporary balm for this condition. “Do you want a glass of wine?” she asks, her eyes glinting. As the waiter deposits two large glasses of sauvignon blanc on the table, she has three words: “Yes, please, God.”

It’s a little after noon on Wednesday, but for Teigen it’s already been a week: Three days prior she accompanied Legend to the Creative Arts Emmys, where he became the first African American man to achieve full EGOT. Then she flew to New York to promote her second book of maximalist recipes, Cravings: Hungry for More. But it was the latest episode of Lip Sync Battle, the celebrity “singing” competition on which she appears as host LL Cool J’s hype woman, that did her voice in. Producers arranged an on-air celebration for her mom, a Thai immigrant who recently became an American citizen. “She was so happy,” Teigen says, choking up a little as she flicks through pictures on her iPhone of her mom onstage with a dancer dressed as Times Square’s famous Naked Cowboy. “You forget, as crazy as the world seems right now, people are still extremely excited to be a part of this country,” she says. “I thought she was going to sob. And instead she just hit the Naked Cowboy’s butt.”

PHOTO: Tom Schirmacher in New York City. Stylist: Michaela Dosamantes; hair: Gavin Harwin at The Wall Group; makeup: Patrick Ta at Greyscale; manicure: Dawn Sterling at Statement Artists; set design: Maria Santana at Art Department. Solace London sweater. Rachel Comey skirt. Eres briefs. J.Hannah hoops. Jane D’Arensbourg ring.

Solace London sweater, $825, solacelondon.com. Rachel Comey skirt, $1,975, rachelcomey.com. Eres briefs, sizes 4–16, $210, net-a-porter.com. J.Hannah hoops, $1,480, jhannahjewelry.com. Jane D’Arensbourg ring, $132, janedarensbourg.com.

Now we know where Teigen gets her ability to land a punch line. She may be vocally compromised at the moment, but her nearly 11 million Twitter followers can count their lucky stars that she still has her fingers, which are just as itchy as the current president’s. When President Trump tweeted, “We must keep ‘evil’ out of our country!” in 2017, she replied, “What time should we call your Uber?” It’s digital bons mots like this that earned her the title of Twitter’s “undisputed queen” from none other than BuzzFeed, which does brisk business aggregating her observations into lists with titles like “100 Hilarious Chrissy Teigen Tweets We Honestly Need to Talk About More.” She’s just as candid in real life—on the Watch What Happens Live With Andy Cohen after-show, she revealed she and Legend did it on their first date.

“When I look at the most successful people around me, I feel like they all had plans,” Teigen says. “But I never had a plan. Never.”

Tory Burch shirt, $348. Zimmermann pants, $650. Mary MacGill earrings, $145, cuffs, $135 each, J.Hannah necklace, $795. Lizzie Fortunato belt, $245.

“I enjoy talking to people and feeling like I know them,” Teigen says. “I always have.”

Johanna Ortiz top, $995. Theory slipdress, $395. Ariana Boussard-Reifel earrings, $325. Jimmy Choo mules, $625.

In an age when celebrities carefully guard their words, her candor connects. “I think the thing that resonates is that she is 100 percent authentic,” says Teigen’s longtime hairstylist, Jen Atkin. “She’s really tweeting like no one’s watching.” These days Teigen has graduated from posting about being hungover and puking into a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos to real talk about everything from breastfeeding struggles to dealing with mommy shamers. Her ability to share these universal truths with humor has challenged the boundaries of what’s appropriate for mothers in the public sphere. And her openness about late-onset postpartum depression has helped shed light on an issue that too often goes undiscussed. “I think the most surprising thing for me was that it happened three months after,” says Teigen, who was on the set of Lip Sync Battle dressed as Eleven from Stranger Things when she realized something was amiss. “I thought postpartum was, you have the baby and you’re sad. It was like, no. It sneaks up on a lot of people. That’s why I thought it was important for me to talk about.”

Our lives would be so much easier if we didn’t dabble in politics at all, but I don’t want that kind of life. For us, we’re willing to take that risk, because we believe in it so passionately.

Growing up in Snohomish, Washington, a farm town 45 minutes north of Seattle, Teigen never imagined she’d be in a position to change cultural conversations. “When I look at the most successful people around me, I feel like they all had plans,” she said. “But I never had a plan. Never. I used to be on antianxiety medication because I was confused. I didn’t know where I was going in life. All I knew when I was younger, or when I was 18, was that I wanted kids and a husband.” Even after her family relocated to Huntington Beach, California, and she began working as a catalog model, her aspirations remained modest. “Maxim Hometown Hottie,” she says. “That was the dream.”

Instead she landed the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue, which was perhaps more wholesome. “Sports Illustrated was so good for me, just because they put more focus on personality,” she says. “I never saw it as a jerk-off moment. I never thought about a man flipping these pages and looking at me and being like, Yeah. For me it was like, ‘I want to be the chick that I want other girls to see and be like.’” She remembers living “week to week” and taking opportunities as they came—like appearing in the video for Legend’s 2007 “Stereo,” which featured Teigen writhing against the singer in what, thanks to Andy Cohen, we now know to be foreplay.

Self-Portrait dress, $430. J.Hannah hoops. Annika Inez glass necklace, $295. Louise Olsen necklace, $180, gold ring, $180. Jane D’Arensbourg ring, $132. BCBG Max Azria sandals, $198.

At first Teigen was intimidated by Legend, a “brainiac,” as she puts it, who started attending an Ivy League school at age 16. In 2009 she accompanied him to the Time 100 gala. “It was a table of, like, Oprah, Michelle Obama, and this woman who ran an incredible charity about sex trafficking in Southeast Asia,” she recalls. “At this point, I wasn’t anything. I remember going back to his dressing room and sobbing.” That same month Teigen found her voice on social media. “Puddy just bit my nipple and I think it’s gone,” she tweeted, referring to her now deceased bulldog, “are these the kind of updates Twitter wants?”

The answer: a resounding yes. “It’s weird to think about now, but that was sort of the first time someone on the page had a voice,” says Teigen’s friend and fellow Sports Illustrated cover girl Brooklyn Decker. “Models were still kind of a figment of other people’s imaginations, and all of a sudden here is this incredibly bright, incredibly candid person who people connected to in a really big way.” Not everyone in Teigen’s life understood the appeal. “People are like, ‘Why do you have time for all of these strangers?’” she says. “But that is my outside connection to the world. I genuinely love doing it. I always have. I enjoy talking to people and feeling like I know them and having this conversation.”

While Teigen’s “smart mouth,” as her husband famously put it, has provided relief to many, it’s also earned her a few enemies. After a tweet in support of gun control led to threats, Teigen briefly abandoned the platform. It’s a moment she’ll never forget. “That’s when it gets scary, because we have kids,” she says. She and Legend have considered taking things down a notch. “Our lives would be so much easier if we didn’t dabble in politics at all,” she says, “but I don’t want that kind of life. For us, we are willing to take that risk, because we believe in it so passionately.” This year, in honor of Trump’s seventy-second birthday, she and Legend donated $288,000—$72,000 for each member of their family—to the ACLU in his name. “We’re still just as fucking angry as we were a year ago,” she says, “but instead of just tweeting about it or creating a hashtag, it’s about what we can do to make it better.”

So is it safe to say that these days Teigen knows her worth? She drains her glass of wine. “I still don’t know my exact job title,” she says. “I have no idea what is going to happen six months from now. I don’t know anything. But maybe that’s the way it works for a lot of people. And I’m OK with that.”

Jessica Pressler is contributing editor at New York magazine.

Hair: Gavin Harwin at The Wall Group; makeup: Patrick Ta at Greyscale; manicure: Dawn Sterling at Statement Artists; set design: Maria Santana at Art Department.



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Review: 'Assassination Nation' Is 'The Crucible' for the Instagram Generation


“You may think I’m exaggerating, but this is the story of how my town, Salem, lost its mother-fucking mind. I will warn you, though. It gets pretty graphic.”

This is how Assassination Nation‘s NSFW teaser trailer begins, spoken in perfect deadpan swagger by an 18-year-old named Lily (Odessa Young). It’s an in-your-face statement, one meant to grab your attention and maybe scare you a little too. What comes next are “a few” trigger warnings for the following: bullying, blood, abuse, classism, death, alcohol and drug use, sexual content, toxic masculinity, homophobia, transphobia, guns, nationalism, racism, kidnapping, murder, the male gaze, giant frogs, sexism, swearing, torture, violence, gore, weapons, and fragile male egos. “I promise you,” Lily adds at the end. “This is 100 percent a true story.”

When I first saw the trailer, I thought, Damn, that’s brilliant marketing. In just over a minute, the completely establishes the movie’s ethos: Come for a story that will take every buzzword happening in 2018 America—several of the above, plus Trumpism, the patriarchy, capitalism, social media, and Generation Z—and set them all on fire. It screams, “Everything is up for grabs, bitches! LOLZ.” But spoiler: This is how the movie actually begins.

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The intro is fitting, given that Assassination Nation overall feels like you’re watching a YouTube video drunk on Four Loko. Or like Heathers, The Purge, and The Crucible all merged into one Instagram Story about naked selfies. It sounds wild, and it is, because there’s nothing subtle about Assassination Nation. (I mean, the town is seriously called Salem.)

Fans of Heathers will be drawn to the social commentary and candy-coated darkness, while The Purge franchise comes through in the townspeople’s creepy masks and gleeful violence. But The Crucible is the most obvious reference here, given the plot is essentially about a witch hunt: After an anonymous hacker released the private photos and texts of nearly everyone in town, Lily and her three best friends, Bex (Hari Nef), Sarah (Suki Waterhouse), and Em (Abra) are blamed.

PHOTO: Courtesy of NEON

The reasons are hazy at best. Nude photos leak, sexy texts messages are revealed—but once a finger is pointed their way, the townspeople don’t hesitate. They simply accept: Of course these “loose” girls are to blame. They’re responsible for corrupting the men of Salem, which means they’re capable of anything, which means they must be punished. “Who sees a naked photo of a girl and their first thought is Yo, I gotta kill this bitch,” Lily asks as things come to a climax. A lot of people, I guess.

But in movie full of extremes, this fear of women’s sexuality is the most realistic thing about Assassination Nation. Need real-life proof? Try this: According to Indiewire, a scene that features a drawing of a nude woman “in pornographic poses” was deemed too explicit by the MPAA. And so it was cut to keep the R-rating from becoming NC-17. Assassination Nation has extensive gun violence, drug use, murder, gore—and yet it’s the discussion of a drawing made by a teen girl that’s too lurid. (You can see it in the NSFW—because of language—clip, below.)

[embedded content]

Ironically, Lily herself gives the most compelling argument against this. “All you’re looking at is the nudity,” she tells the school principal, who’s trying to reprimand her for the drawing. “But this isn’t about that…≥ This is about everything that goes into it. The pressure, the endless mind fuck, the ten thousand naked selfies you took before this one trying to get it just right. Trying to make sure the light hides your left nipple because it’s slightly inverted or it’s smaller. Or maybe your labia’s too big, but if you pull your pelvic bone up and bend to the left slightly in a low-light setting, then you’ll be beautiful. Hashtag flawless. Body confident.”

“But it’s all one big lie,” she continues. “You can never be, because nobody’s flawless, and all it takes is one fucking asshole to remind you of that. One guy to say, ‘LOL’ or ‘She’s nasty.’ And you’re right back at square one. So, OK, maybe it is explicit or extreme, but it sure as hell looks like life to me.”

Assassination Nation is in theaters September 21.



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Girls' Generation Singer Tiffany Young on Launching Her Solo Career in the U.S.


On June 28, the night her song “Over My Skin” was released, Korean American singer Tiffany Young went live on Instagram from her Los Angeles home. The 29-year-old wore a rainbow tank and pink pom-pom earrings, and looked—despite having spent half her life in Seoul, South Korea—every bit the California girl. As she thanked fans for their continued support while dancing around in her chair, Young had both the poise of an industry veteran with the exuberance of an up-and-comer on the brink of her big break.

In many ways, Young is both. Stateside audiences might not know her name, but Young is a superstar in South Korea, where she spent the past decade with popular K-pop group Girls’ Generation. Now, she’s setting off on her own and starting fresh in the United States. “I feel like I’m living out my dreams again,” Young tells Glamour. “It’s an amazing feeling.”

It’s a bold move: Young has loyal fans supporting her move, but she’s still a new artist to the U.S. And K-pop doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to crossovers. Take BoA and CL, both A-listers in South Korea who struggled to make waves in mainstream western markets. Wonder Girls toured with the Jonas Brothers in 2009 and their English version of “Nobody” made a small splash on the charts, but the group’s follow-up collaboration with Akon, “Like Money,” fell flat and put an abrupt halt to their English language album. Even Young’s group, Girls’ Generation, tried an English version of their song “The Boys” that failed to make an impact. Until BTS’ recent breakthrough, Psy and his “Gangnam Style”—for better or worse—was the name most often associated with the genre.

But Young’s background is different—and may just be the thing to help her break through. Born and raised in California, the singer was first scouted as a teenager after singing Mariah Carey’s “Hero” and Christina Aguilera’s “The Voice Within” at an audition in 2004. Having lost her mother when she was only 12, Young found comfort and release in singing ballads like Aguilera’s. “‘The Voice Within’ is very intimate in talking to your inner younger self,” Young explains. “It just really spoke to me in a way nothing else had. That’s when I realized music was definitely magical for me.”

SM Entertainment, one of K-pop’s biggest agencies, took notice of the young singer; at 15 years old, she moved to Seoul on her own. Away from her family in a new country, Young grew up fast. Navigating the business at a young age, she learned to be assertive and make her own decisions. “There were parent meetings, so I’d be the one in there because my family’s all here [in America],” Young says. “The whole time in Korea really helped me become independent and have opinions.”

She wasn’t entirely alone, though: Her Girls’ Generation bandmates shared in the growing pains. “I found family in the girls,” she says. “We really kind of grew into each other and taught each other a lot of things.”

Young was 17 when Girls’ Generation debuted with the song “Into the New World.” The lyrics spoke of forging a new path together, with lines like, “Don’t wait for a special miracle. There’s a rough road in front of us. With unknowable future and obstacles, I won’t change, I can’t give up.”

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“That was the truth of what we were thinking about at the time,” Young says. “We’re going to get together, and we’re going to change the world. We can create our own world.” At the time, according to Young, the group members were all ages 16 to 18 and didn’t think too deeply into the song’s message. Yet it’s stood the test of time; a decade since its release, “Into the New World” has gotten a new life as an anthem for change in Seoul Pride celebrations and political protests.

Then, at 22 years old, Young started a sub-group of Girls’ Generation with fellow members Taeyeon Kim and Seohyun (Juhyun Seo). In the debut song “Twinkle”—a funky, brassy track about not letting anything dull your shine—the trio were able to showcase more of their vocals and personal styles. “At this point, everyone was like, ‘What are they going to come out with? They’ve done so much,'” Young says. “But we were still in this place where we still have so much to show you.”

In 2016, Young released her first Korean solo EP, I Just Wanna Dance. The album’s synth-pop title track is a euphoric club anthem about dancing all night like the world’s your stage. You can just picture Britney Spears and Ariana Grande high-fiving Young, telling her to take it from here.

A year later, as Young reached a milestone decade with Girls’ Generation, she decided not to renew her contract with SM Entertainment. “It was a natural, organic, gradual pivot,” Young tells us. “I had always gotten demos [for Girls’ Generation] in English, and I’d sing it in both languages all the time. It almost became so natural that even the fans, my bandmates, and my former label were like, ‘Tiffany needs to sing in English.’”

Still, Young wanted to celebrate the Girls’ Generation anniversary to the fullest with the release of the group’s song “Holiday.” It was especially important for her to take the anniversary in fully, because so many moments in the past 10 years had been overlooked. “It didn’t hit us until now,” Young says. “We’re looking back at all these things like, we were so young. Time passed by so fast.”

Since their 2007 debut, Girls’ Generation has released nine studio albums, four EPs, and 28 singles. In 2013, the group won Video of the Year at the YouTube Music Awards for their video “I Got a Boy.” They’re one of K-pop’s longest-running groups, with no signs of slowing down. (Even without Young on board.) Last year’s anniversary album Holiday Night went straight to the top of the World Albums chart. The group even made it into Guinness World Records 2018 for Most Awards Won after winning 13 at the Melon Music Awards.

Now, Young finds herself back in California ready to embark on her solo career. For many K-pop stars, the end of a group contract leads to a solo career, acting, or hosting TV shows in Korea. Young, however, wanted to take her dream to the U.S., despite the risks involved. “Once I was here, even when there was a lot of self doubt, it was like, “Come on. You wanted this your whole life,” she says.

An added bonus: She was finally able to share her work on an intimate level with her family, whom she had only seen about twice a year for an hour before concerts. “They were like, ‘So this is what you’ve been doing your whole life?’ And it really hit me: They’ve never seen me on set,” she says. “They’ve only seen the final product. I felt so supported that I had family on the set of my music video.”

Now settling into her new life in Los Angeles, Young is studying acting while she works on new music. She envisions herself starring in movies that blend music and film, like Moulin Rouge. (“It’s that universal story of wanting to be loved and loving someone in return,” she says.) She’s been on castings and auditions, but Young’s taking it slow for now. The same goes for music. She’d rather run with inspiration as it comes, releasing stand-alone singles before committing to a full album.

That said, she has an idea of what she wants to do. For her English-language solo debut, “Over My Skin,” Young wanted a fun summer song about being comfortable and confident. Lyrics like, “‘Cause I like it when you touch me / Do nasty things and you don’t judge me / You got that something that undoes me,” dance over a sound that blends her bright, K-pop roots with early 2000s pop. (Young felt inspired after attending a recent Justin Timberlake concert.)

The result? A sexy, unapologetic track that she hopes inspires listeners to own who they are and what they want. “Coming from celebrating a decade of being in a girl group, I wanted to celebrate what it is to be a woman in this time and age,” she says.

That also translated to the song’s cover photo, above, in which she opted for a stripped-down look. It’s a departure from the typically glossy production of K-pop and sends the message that for her solo, California-based work, Young is presenting herself as is. No heavy makeup, no flashy wardrobe, no elaborate sets. The video shows all the obstacles she’s met as an artist juxtaposed with herself performing confidently, triumphantly on stage.

“This music video reflects situations where I’ve had to overcome my insecurities as a performer, shut out any fears or short comings, and feel good in my own skin,” she says. “For me, it’s about self love, self acceptance, and growing.”

In other words, this new chapter of her career honors both her roots and who she is now. In fact, the name Tiffany Young brings those two parts of herself together. (She was born Stephanie Hwang, Korean name Miyoung Hwang, but in Girls’ Generation she went by Tiffany.) She chose Young because in Chinese characters it stands for forever.

“When people hear Young, it’s like, OK, she’s trying to stay young? But there’s a deeper meaning,” she says. “I forever want to be embracing where I come from and what I’ve done and who I am.”

That includes being an artist who hopes to give back to her fans for following her through this journey. “I’m thankful for the trust that we have right now,” she says. “I hope to be an artist for them that opens their hearts and their minds, makes them feel happy and understood.”

Blanca Méndez is a music writer who’s written for Rolling Stone, SPIN, and Noisey.

Photos: Transparent Agency, Getty Images





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Cecile Richards: My Mom Inspired a Generation of Women, Including Me


“What was it like having Ann Richards as a mother?” People always ask me this question. They’ll come up to me and recite a favorite line from her keynote speech at the 1988 Democratic National Convention—“Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, she just did it backward and in high heels!”)—or reminisce about the day she became the first woman elected governor of Texas.

Here’s my answer: Being Ann Richards’s daughter was both exhilarating and daunting. My mom was demanding of herself and everyone around her, and she knew that women only got what they fought for—nothing more, nothing less. She insisted on hard work, and a lot of it.

This Mother’s Day I’m thinking even more than usual about what my mom would have to say about the world today. (One of my great regrets: that she died before having a chance to bring her wit to Twitter!) I know she would have loved that, with the last gasps of the patriarchy in full throttle, women of every age and background are standing with each other, demanding nothing less than full equality. As someone who spent her life making sure women made progress—economic, political, cultural—I know Mom would be at the ramparts with us: knitting her pussy hat, helping women running for office, marveling and rejoicing at the explosion of activism across the globe.

Mom used to remind us: ”When my grandmother was a girl, the only people who couldn’t vote under Texas law were ‘idiots, imbeciles, the insane, and women.’” Yet two generations later, Mom was elected governor of Texas. She got there by sheer determination, and she wasn’t about to let anyone else half-step it in their own life. When my children were born, Mom made it clear she wasn’t the “baking cookies kind of grandmother.” Instead, she always asked each child if they were the smartest one in class. If they said no, she wanted to know why not.

Mom saw so many changes in her lifetime. In particular, she was overjoyed by the passage of Title IX, which gave girls the opportunity to play competitive sports. Watching her granddaughter Hannah pitch through a tough inning of softball or her granddaughter Lily coxswain for the rowing team was a marvel. Mom also cherished her time at University of Texas Lady Longhorns basketball games, where she cheered loudly with her friend Congresswoman Barbara Jordan. If you closed your eyes, you might have mistaken the two of them for teenagers.

When someone asked what she would have done if she’d had a second term as governor, [my mother] said, “I would have raised more hell.”

But of all the issues Mom cared about, women’s ability to control their body and make their own decisions about childbearing was number one. Like every mother I know, Ann Richards found it unconscionable that her daughters, much less her granddaughters, might have fewer rights than she did—and she was not about to let that happen. She often opined about politicians’ obsession with what was going on in other people’s bedrooms. It was no surprise that her first full-time campaign job was for Sarah Weddington, who (at 26) had successfully argued Roe v. Wade before running for state legislature.

Mom was 47 when she decided to run herself. After she won, she became adamant that women shouldn’t wait for an invitation or until they had the perfect résumé. She’d say, “Cecile, this is the only life you have. There aren’t any do-overs. So whatever new chance comes your way, jump at it.”

When I got a call inviting me to interview for the job as president of Planned Parenthood, I almost didn’t go to the interview. I did what any grown woman would do: I called my mother. When I listed all the reasons I wasn’t qualified, she wasn’t having it. “Planned Parenthood is the most important women’s health care organization in the country—how exciting!” she said. “If you don’t try for this, you’ll regret it forever.”

This month, when I left Planned Parenthood after 12 years as president, I was more grateful than ever to Mom for believing in me even more than I believed in myself.

To me, this is the theme of Mother’s Day. Over the last year and a half, I’ve met mothers and daughters who are organizing together, going to town halls together, speaking out together, and doing things they never could have imagined doing before. There are the daughters I’ve met on book tour, who proudly ask me to sign a copy of Make Trouble for their troublemaking mother. The sheer determination of women across America to come together, support each other, run for office, and declare #TimesUp is nothing short of historic. I’m sorry Mom didn’t live to see this moment, and be part of it. But I think of her daily, and how she helped deliver us to to this moment.

So today I hope mothers and daughters everywhere will take a page from Ann Richards’ book. When someone asked what she would have done if she’d had a second term as governor, she said, “I would have raised more hell.”

These are words to live by.

Cecile Richards is the former president of Planned Parenthood Federation of America and Planned Parenthood Action Fund. She is also the author of the New York Times best-seller Make Trouble: Standing Up, Speaking Out, and Finding the Courage to Lead (Touchstone), on sale now.





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Rowan Blanchard to 'Grown-Ups': "My Generation Isn't Sheltered"


January 21 marks the one-year anniversary of the Women’s March, the largest single-day protest in U.S. history. All this week, Glamour will be spotlighting the stories, people, and issues that framed the March, as well as where we go from here.

I was asked to speak at the Women’s March in L.A., and of course I said yes. I try to take any opportunity I can to be a representative for my generation (I was 15 at the time of the march), especially because during and after the election I think people forgot that there were a lot of us who had worked hard to get our parents, families, or friends to vote, even though we couldn’t vote ourselves. There was this weird feeling of being left behind in a lot of conversations. I wanted to make it clear that teenagers deserve a seat at the table. I wanted to talk about my generation because I feel like often when we are talked about, it’s not from our mouths but from adults who are writing about us.

I get asked a lot: “Why are you involved in politics? You’re so young, don’t you want to enjoy being a kid?” I really don’t understand that thought process. Let’s say you’re a teen who is an undocumented immigrant. Is someone going to ask you why you are involved in politics? And then you get deported? The idea that teens shouldn’t be interested in politics just doesn’t make sense to me. Even though we can’t vote yet, we young people are all so, so affected by this presidency. And we’re incredibly aware of it.

My generation isn’t sheltered like previous generations of teens have been. The presidential race acted as an age equalizer. We all have access to the same information because we are all on the Internet, and we are working hard to educate one another. I learned not just about feminism but about intersectional feminism from other teenagers, so I felt it was only fair to acknowledge teenagers at the Women’s March. Teenagers on the Internet explained to me what queer meant, what the word biracial really meant. I am incredibly impressed with how my generation takes the time to educate one another. When the Black Lives Matter movement started, I, coming from a place of white privilege, needed to better understand its motives. And other teens explained it to me without softening it—and in a more inclusive, straightforward, just-the-facts way that, to be frank, I didn’t learn in middle school history class. Now I take history classes and think, This isn’t all that happened! This isn’t the whole truth! I wouldn’t know if it weren’t for other teenagers breaking down the information for me on the Internet.

My generation isn’t sheltered like previous
generations of teens have been.
The presidential race acted as an age equalizer.

I will not be old enough to vote in the midterm elections. But I’ll still be working my ass off to get people who are 18 to vote. So if you want to have an influence, you need to include us! If young people get discouraged and decide it’s not worth voting, we’re going to be stuck in a Republican mess for God knows how long.

When I wrote my speech for the march, I couldn’t just say about the future: “It’s OK; we’ll be fine.” Instead, to teens I say: Reach out. You’ve got to have your “witch crew,” your people you can text and check in on. When I’ve felt myself losing hope, it’s other girls and queer young people who have kept me going. When someone checks in on me, I’m grateful, and when I check in on a friend who is a lot more affected by what’s going on than I am, I know we’re supporting each other. We have to have our own network of healing.

Speaking at the march was a way for me to remind people of all ages that if you lose teenagers, you lose the next voting generation. We saw that a lot of people didn’t vote in this election because they didn’t think their one vote would make a difference. People genuinely believe that. That’s my biggest concern. Young people are taught to believe what adults tell us, and when you act like your vote doesn’t matter, that’s the message we get. I was lucky to grow up in a household where I was allowed to question adults and engage in conversations about what I believe and learn from them. But for the vast majority of teens, that doesn’t exist—especially if you are growing up in a household that is racist or homophobic. So my biggest plea is to adults: Include us in your conversations. Give us more platforms, and don’t talk down to us when you do include us. Our voices matter.

Excerpted from Together We Rise: Behind the Scenes at the Protest Heard Around the World, available for purchase now.

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Maxine Waters on How the Women's March Revived Her Faith in the Younger Generation


January 21 marks the one-year anniversary of the Women’s March, the largest single-day protest in U.S. history. All this week, Glamour will be spotlighting the stories, people, and issues that framed the March, as well as where we go from here.

Backstage, before I spoke at the Women’s March in Washington, my mind went immediately to the many marches I’ve been involved in during my lifetime. I couldn’t help but reflect on the work of fellow activists in my past, people like Gloria Steinem, Bella Abzug, and so many others. I met up with Gloria backstage and my heart fluttered to see her, and we embraced and talked about old times.

But I will be honest: I was also feeling as if there had been a long gap. So much time had passed between when we had been together on those marches, what we had accomplished, and today. I had really begun to think that the women’s movement was lost, that younger women didn’t appreciate what we had done, and why. I thought they were more focused on their careers, thinking that a women’s movement didn’t enhance their opportunity for upward mobility, that they didn’t want to be aligned with it. They didn’t think they needed it.

Going in, I had been feeling disappointed, even a bit resentful,
toward the younger generation. But seeing the
size and passion of the crowd… [I realized] I’d
been completely wrong.

I lined up to speak, and I could not believe what I saw. I had heard there would be 250,000 people present; it was more like a million. It was unlike any march I’d been to before. For one thing, there were the pink hats everywhere. The signs were the most creative that I have ever seen. And the women who had organized the march had included people of all cultures and backgrounds in their leadership and planning.

Going in, I had been feeling disappointed, even a bit resentful, toward the younger generation. I was under the impression that they thought what we had done for women’s rights wasn’t important. But seeing the size and passion of the crowd and realizing that the younger women there recognized what we had done and that they were carrying our torch made me realize I’d been completely wrong. And as I left the stage and marched with groups of young women, I saw that they did know the history. Some of them even recognized me and called out my name, and it was thrilling to me to connect with the younger generation. We walked from the stage all the way to the White House and I was in a state of euphoria. It was a wonderful, wonderful experience.

Excerpted from Together We Rise: Behind the Scenes at the Protest Heard Around the World, available for purchase now.

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